


Inked and Studded

by mizzshy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Cock Piercing, Ear Piercings, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Licking, Nipple Piercings, Piercings, Social Media, Tattoo Artist Otabek, Tattoos, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzshy/pseuds/mizzshy
Summary: What's a young man to do when he's restlessly bouncing from temp job to temp job with no outlook for anything more any time soon? The answer, at least for Yuri, seems to lie in a tattoo studio.





	Inked and Studded

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, this took so long to write.
> 
> Full disclaimer, I don't actually know much about piercings and tattoos and most of this is based on anecdotes from friends of mine with more piercings and tattoos than myself. (I keep chickening out of booking my first tat.)
> 
> There's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it Ninja Sex Party reference in this - let me know if you spot it. :P

The tattoo studio – a little place called The Skin Sorcerer – is on one of those tiny little side streets that no one thinks about unless they're actively going there. The road doesn't even serve as a shortcut to anywhere, having the entrance to a graveyard at one end and a run down upholsterers and uninspiring newsagent flanking the other. Nevertheless, Yuri _has_ heard of the place, so he supposes a lack of foot traffic means little in context of a good reputation – and really, how much business can be generated by foot traffic on a tattoo studio anyway?

Not that he's here for himself – he doesn't even want a piercing, let alone a tattoo. The pain doesn't seem worth it, and he's heard from the Internet that finding a job with body modifications is even more difficult than usual. He's already stuck in a cycle of spending a few days (sometimes up to a fortnight) in a temp job before being told he's no longer needed there and moving on to the next one – or then going a few days or weeks without any work at all. It's a good thing his grandfather isn't charging him rent, or he'd never have any money at all, and he's able to make a vague attempt at saving. As it is, his biggest expenditure is Potya, who he spoils with toys and nice food when he can.

No: really, Yuri has never had any real, tangible desire to get any piercings or tattoos. Until Mila drags him to The Skin Sorcerer, he's never even stepped into a studio before.

“Why do I have to go with you?” he grumbles as they pass the upholsterers and and turn onto the side street.

“Because Georgi's at work, Viktor can't deal with needles and I promise I'll buy you a drink after,” grins Mila. “It's just a bellybutton piercing, we'll be in and out before you know it.”

Yuri just huffs – she could have mentioned the drink earlier.

“Besides, it's not like you have anything better to do,” she points out. “I'm being a good friend by bringing you into town so you can look for places that are hiring.”

“Like I haven't already applied for them all,” Yuri says glumly.

Mila pushes open the studio door. Inside, the place is decorated in bright colours, with numerous framed pieces of art on the walls. Following Mila, Yuri eyes the flaming skulls and clusters of stars while she goes to the desk to speak to a woman with purple hair and cheek piercings that give her little metallic dimples. There's a buzzing coming from upstairs, an oddly satisfying sound, and the place smells like disinfectant. He's glad Mila's piercing will probably be clean at least.

After some time, a woman with long, dark hair and a nose ring comes down the stairs, smiling at Mila, but Yuri is struck dumb by the guy behind her. He's not much taller than Yuri, but in all other aspects he seems almost the opposite. His dark hair is in an undercut, the stark shape of his hairline framing the top half of his face and a strong jaw framing the bottom. One of his eyebrows sports a bar and there's a ring through one side of his lower lip, as well as more bars and rings donning his ears. Yuri can see the edge of a tattoo splashed across one of his shoulders, peeking out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. He puts a large mug down on the desk and joins the dark-haired woman in greeting Mila.

“You're Sara's navel piercing?” he asks her.

“Yep!” says Mila brightly. “I can't wait!”

“Well you're in very good hands,” says Undercut with a little smile that makes Yuri's breath catch in his throat, especially when it gets turned on him and the guy asks, “Are you getting something done too?”

It takes Yuri a solid five seconds to respond, and only because he mentally kicks himself to do so. “Er, yeah!”

Yuri has no idea why he says it: the words just fall out of his face of their own volition. He's vaguely aware of Mila raising an amused eyebrow at him, but then Undercut smiles at him again and he's entirely lost.

“I can fit you in now,” he says.

Yuri tries not to think about what else Undercut could fit in and follows him, Mila and Sara up the stairs and soon (after asserting that he doesn't need Mila to hold his hand) the door to the small room is closed behind him and Undercut, leaving them alone together. A radio in the corner is playing a classical piece of driving staccato beats and German choral parts, and Undercut turns it down a little.

“Hop up on the bench,” he says over his shoulder, and Yuri obeys without question while the guy gathers some bits off the counter. Finally, he turns back to Yuri. “I'm Otabek.”

“Er... Yuri,” says Yuri, somehow managing something resembling a small smile.

“Nice name,” says Otabek, and fortunately Yuri barely has time to flush before he adds, “What do you want done today?”

“Er...” _Next time think through your ill-advised snap decisions you utter knob._ “I was thinking maybe my ears but...” He pauses, unsure how to word this without potentially offending the most gorgeous man he's ever seen. “I err... I'm between jobs right now and I'm kind of... aware that not everyone is super chill about this kind of thing.”

Otabek shrugs. “Yeah it's fair to be concerned.” He puts one hand on the end of the bench, leaning on it. Yuri tries hard to listen to what he's saying rather than get distracted by how the muscles and tendons in Otabek's forearm tense under his weight. “Most places can be pretty relaxed about that kind of thing now though – I do art and piercings on all kinds of people so you needn't worry too much.”

The words are strange: on the one hand, Yuri feels somewhat comforted, but on the other, there's a slight wrench in his stomach when he thinks of all the other people Otabek must come across every single day in his job – people much more interesting than Yuri. Yuri clears his throat. “Okay, well... I think I'll stick with my ears but I'm not sure where if that makes sense.”

Otabek nods. “Well here...” He pushes off the bench to grab a mirror and hold it up so Yuri can see himself. “You could get your lobes – it's relatively commonplace, so less likely to cause you any grief. Or...” He reaches out, and Yuri can see pink splotch his own face in the mirror when Otabek's fingers brush across his forehead to pull back the curtain of his hair and expose his ear. “You could get something a little higher up...” He runs his thumb over the top part of Yuri's ear. “Like here, and you could hide it with your hair if you wanted.”

Yuri tries very hard to keep his breathing normal. The feeling of Otabek touching his ear is strangely intimate and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. “Yeah, higher up sounds good.”

“Or,” adds Otabek, “you could get something that sits more centrally, like a daith, which would go in about here.”

Yuri jumps (and immediately admonishes himself mentally) when he feels Otabek's fingers touch gently in the middle of his ear, just above his ear hole. The touch recedes immediately.

“Sorry!” says Otabek, hands up in surprise. “I should have warned you – I didn't mean to startle.”

Yuri laughs, trying to seem calm while his heart still flutters. “It's okay – I just wasn't expecting it.” He doesn't say the next part. _Please touch me again._

Unfortunately, because he doesn't, Otabek instead leans forward a little and turns his head to show his own ear. He gestures with one artful finger to a ring with points coming off it nestled inside his ear, in amongst the other rings and bars. “This is a daith. It's a little more expensive because it's a therapeutic piercing which helps with migraines.”

“It looks like a little sun,” says Yuri quietly, without thinking, and Otabek turns that stunning smile on him again.

“That's exactly what I was going for,” he says, and Yuri can't help but smile at how pleased he sounds. He suspects people tend not to get it. “But if you're looking for something more subtle you could have a barbell in it, which will be less obvious.”

Yuri nods. “Yeah, it's kind of hidden – I like it.”

“It would suit your ears,” says Otabek. “They're nicely shaped for a little bar.”

It's the oddest compliment Yuri has ever received and he flushes a little. “Thanks?”

“Which side?” asks Otabek. “Unless you want one on each?”

Yuri shakes his head, thinking of the price comment. “I was thinking on the right and something different on the left?” He hopes he sounds like he knows what he's talking about. “I thought maybe a tragus?”

Thank goodness for the posters downstairs – Yuri's pretty certain that was the right word. Otabek turns his head to show his other ear. “Like this?” He points to a stud close to his face and Yuri nods. “Cool, let me get the stuff together.”

The pain for each is sharp and subsides quickly – Yuri knows he's had worse pain, but the tugging sensation is something new, as is the cold numbing agent. What makes Yuri's spine stiffen is the gentle brush of Otabek's gloved fingers on the back of his neck and the intense look of concentration in his eyes.

“These your first?” asks Otabek, when Yuri has a plastic tube through his second ear. Yuri nods. “I'll make sure I get you the aftercare information from the front desk – we figure it's easier to have it written down for people because they forget the numbers.”

“Thanks,” says Yuri, feeling a strange and slightly painful pull as Otabek puts the bar through the newly-created hole. He casts about in his mind for something to talk about – he wants to keep talking to him, to learn more about him. “So how long have you been doing this?”

“About five years,” says Otabek. “Started when I was eighteen.”

Yuri does some quick calculations in his head and Otabek grabs the mirror again, holding it up so Yuri can turn his head and admire the piercings. The little studs sit nestled inside the whorls of his ears, not quite a secret, and he's pleased (and relieved) to find he likes it.

“Awesome,” he says, grinning up at Otabek and getting a smile in return.

 

Mila looks like a cat that got the cream, with a smug smile on her face and her finger tracing the edge of her glass. Yuri throws a look at her across the table.

“Just say it,” he says.

“I should take you to the zoo,” she says, still grinning.

Yuri's face twists in confusion. “What?”

“Because you're a hippo-crite.” She flashes a shit-eating grin his way and Yuri scowls.

“Yeah whatever,” he says, sipping his drink. “Like you wouldn't have done the same.”

Mila giggles. “I wouldn't be such a little bitch about it.”

“Shut up hag,” he grumbles.

“You should go for it,” she continues, ignoring the order.

“For what?” He knows exactly what.

“Otabek!” says Mila. He was right.

“Yeah sure,” scoffs Yuri. “Like he'd be interested.”

“You'd be surprised,” she grins again. “Come on, it'll be fun – you haven't gotten laid in, like, a year and I've heard he's packing some _prime_ dick.”

Yuri makes a face. “You're gross.” He goes to take a sip of his drink but puts it straight back down. “How prime are we talking?”

Mila cackles. “ _Very_.”

Yuri flushes despite himself. “How do you even know this?”

“I have my sources.” Mila cocks an eyebrow. “I also happen to know he's single.”

Yuri draws one finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass. Along with the tentative beginnings of hope, he's asking himself a question: how does he engineer a situation to see Otabek again?

There's one very obvious answer.

 

After dinner, Yuri clears the table and takes the plates to the sink to wash them. He feels a twinge of guilt when Potya winds herself in between his legs while he scrubs, purring idly: the piercings, as much as he doesn't regret them, were rather more expensive than he was expecting.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, getting a soft mew in return, “I'll get you the cat tower at some point.”

“And where are you going to put it?” asks Yuri's grandfather as he strides into the kitchen behind Yuri. “We don't have any space.”

“I'll sell my bed,” says Yuri. “I can just sleep in a ball on the floor.”

“That'll help build character,” says Nikolai nonchalantly. Yuri listens to him retrieving his pills from the cupboard. He leans past Yuri to grab a teaspoon from the draining board but then Yuri feels him do a double-take and stop beside him.

“Yurochka.”

“Hmm?” Yuri turns his head to look at Nikolai, who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, both sides?” he asks.

“Oh...” Yuri barely gave a thought to tying his hair back to do the washing up, but now he feels his ears and neck flush under his grandfather's pointed gaze. It's not that he wanted to keep the piercings a secret exactly, but he isn't sure what he was planning to say about them or how to even broach the subject with Nikolai. As it is... “I got them done today.”

Nikolai raises an eyebrow. “Have you joined a gang?”

“What? No,” says Yuri, shaking his head and grabbing a tea towel to dry his hands. “I just thought it looked good.”

“Hmm.” Nikolai continues to eye Yuri's ears. “And you wanted to do this for a while?”

Yuri nods – he can't tell the truth and get more judgement from his grandfather. “I went with Mila – she got her bellybutton done.”

Nikolai laughs. “Are you getting one of those next?”

Yuri tries a little grin. “Nah, not my style.”

“Okay then,” Nikolai says. “Well you're big and ugly enough to make your own mistakes – just don't let this affect your chances of finding a job.”

Yuri waves a hand and goes back to the sink. “I won't.”

 

Yuri gets used to the aftercare routine: cleaning and twiddling the bars, not sleeping on them if he can help it (not an easy feat for a fidgety sleeper like himself). Sometimes his ears ache and he needs to keep himself from touching them too much so he grabs Potya, and she gladly accepts long petting sessions on the sofa or Yuri's bed.

Several weeks pass by and Yuri starts a temp job at an insurance place where he doesn't feel that he does much other than occasionally stuff envelopes. No one gives his ears a second glance and he finds himself throwing furtive looks at the employees while he stands at the photocopier, noticing piercings and tattoos when before he he barely would have given them a thought. He sees plenty of ear piercings, sometimes many at once, frequent nose studs, occasional lip rings. One guy has the edge of a tribal pattern peeking out of the top of his collar while another woman has a fairy adorning one ankle. It seems his fears may be unfounded.

He finds himself thinking about Otabek and what Mila said about him being single. He's not going to pretend that he's not attracted to Otabek – he's twenty years old, not fourteen – but the trouble is he has no idea how to pursue someone so dazzlingly cool. A little Facebook stalking one evening after dinner unearths a profile picture of Otabek astride a vicious-looking motorbike, and Yuri feels an intimidated twinge in his stomach. There's no way he could ever hope to catch Otabek's eye. He closes his laptop with a dejected sigh.

When he scrolls through Instagram later, The Skin Sorcerer appears in his feed as a suggested account to follow. He looks through their pictures, admiring the tattoos and metal before hitting the 'Follow' button. When he does, Otabek's face appears as another suggestion.

With warm cheeks, Yuri taps on it and scrolls through Otabek's photos. Most of them are of piercings and tattoos he's done, with a couple of pictures of bikes and beers and vinyl records, as well as a smattering of selfies. When he sees how many of the body mod pictures are reposted from other accounts, Yuri gets a fully-formed idea in his head. Before he can lose his nerve, he hits 'Follow' on Otabek's profile and closes Instagram so he can snap some quick pictures of his ears. He's picking a filter when his phone buzzes but he ignores the notification in favour of finishing the post, eventually uploading a greyscale collage of his ears with the caption 'Loving my ears, thanks **@otabek-altin** and **@SkinSorcerer**! #piercings #earpiercings #daith #tragus #lostmypiercingvirginity #whoopsIlookgreat'

Finally, Yuri checks the notification.

 

 **otabek-altin** started following you. 6m

 

The yelp of surprise Yuri lets out is loud enough to startle Potya awake and she looks at him in alarm. Yuri reaches out one hand and scratches behind her ears in apology. Once she's suitably calmed and purring in his lap, Yuri goes back to his phone.

He rolls his eyes at Viktor's 'Omg what is that?!' and zeroes in on the comment he was waiting for:

 

 **otabek-altin** No worries! They look great, just keep them clean! #theaddictionbegins

 

Yuri grins and types out a reply:

 

 **yuri_plisetsky** _@otabek-altin_ I will! Might be back for more!

 

He barely waits two minutes before Otabek responds:

 

 **otabek-altin** _@yuri_plisetsky_ I look forward to it.

 

Yuri feels a thrill in his stomach. He's talking himself out of replying again when he gets a message from Mila.

 

 **Mila** : Yo nice work, saw your little comment flirting party with Otabek. ;) I'm proud of you!

 

Yuri draws one finger down Potya's spine while he replies.

 

 **Yuri** : You think it was okay?

 **Mila** : Hell yeah, you go!

 

Yuri rolls his eyes a little but grins.

 

 **Yuri** : What should I do next?

 **Mila** : Wellllllll I'm in the process of booking a tattoo and you could just happen to come with me mayyyybe? ;D

 

Yuri grins: sometimes he really loves Mila.

 

A couple of weeks later, with the last residual ache gone from the daith and tragus (not, as he's well aware from the leaflet Otabek gave him, that it means they're fully healed yet), Yuri goes with Mila to The Skin Sorcerer again. This time, however, instead of bored resignation, he feels excitement and anticipation, and he knows exactly what he's going to do.

“What's Nikolai going to say when you come home with a stud in your lip?” asks Mila. She's swinging a bag on her arm full of various foods and a can of energy drink (she took Sara's advice about not being hungry during the session very seriously) and is doing that thing she does when she's low-key anxious where she keeps twirling one of the ringlets on the top of her head around her finger.

Yuri shrugs. “No idea – I haven't thought about it much,” he says. Truthfully, he's been _trying_ not to think about it much because he knows the reaction isn't likely to be great. It took several days for his grandfather to stop peering at his ears and several more for him to stop cracking jokes and terrible ear puns. Yuri thinks a facial piercing is less likely to be greeted with jokes.

When they reach the shop, Yuri's starting to feel nervous again despite himself. The purple-haired woman behind the desk greets them cheerily before going to fetch Sara and Otabek.

“Hey chill,” laughs Mila as they wait for her to come back. “Your leg's shaking.”

Yuri flushes and stills his body. “That curl on top of your head is getting tangled.”

Mila drops her hand, smoothing the lock of hair as they hear footsteps come down the stairs. Yuri has to remind himself to breathe normally when he sees Otabek, wearing a vest that shows off his strong shoulders and grinning at him. With Otabek standing before him, Yuri barely registers Mila going up the stairs with Sara.

“Hey,” Otabek greets him, tone light and warm – Yuri wants to hear his voice forever. “I see you weren't scared off.”

Yuri cocks an eyebrow, smiling wickedly. “Takes more than that to scare me.”

Otabek laughs, the sound caressing Yuri's senses. “Glad to hear it.”

Once they're upstairs in Otabek's room and Yuri is perched on the edge of the bench again, Otabek turns to him.

“So what'll it be?” he asks. “More ears?”

Yuri shakes his head. “I was thinking maybe lip?”

Otabek wiggles the ring in his lower lip with his tongue. “Like this?”

Yuri's toes curl uncomfortably – he didn't want it to seem like he's trying to copy him – and says, “No, I... maybe in the middle?” He presses his tongue against the middle of his lower lip.

Otabek nods, stepping closer, bringing Yuri's heart to a sudden stop when he takes Yuri's chin in one hand and brushes the thumb of his other hand over Yuri's bottom lip. Otabek's thumb is a slow drag into the plush flesh of his lip, and it lasts too long and nowhere near long enough before the tip of his thumbnail settles under the pouted dip under the middle.

“This would look cute,” says Otabek. “Plus it'll be a little more subtle for jobs and stuff because it kind of hides under the lip a little.” He lowers his hand, the other hand still tucked under Yuri's chin, warm and steady. “Sound good?”

“Y-yeah...” _Dammit don't stutter!_ In the silence of the room, Yuri swears he can hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He doesn't dare move, as though doing so would break whatever spell they're under, and for a long moment he stares dazedly up at Otabek gazing down at him. Yuri thinks for a wild second that Otabek is going to hunch down and kiss him... but then there's a loud clunk on the roof that makes them both jump, followed by full-throated cooing. Otabek moves back and sighs, the sound frustrated.

“Fuck me,” he mutters on a soft laugh.

 _Please_ , thinks Yuri, trying to calm his heartbeat, but Otabek's pulling on latex gloves and dowsing cotton balls in alcohol. As he listens to the packets of needles being opened and thrown in the bin, Yuri adds pigeons to the list of things he can't fucking stand.

The length of the tube that Otabek puts through Yuri's lip is... startling to say the least, but Yuri finds distraction in the feeling of Otabek's hands on his face again. The barrier of the gloves changes things (obviously), along with the efficiency with which Otabek works, but the occasional touch of his fingertips inside Yuri's lip feels curiously familiar all the same.

When Otabek holds up the mirror and Yuri looks at himself a strange feeling creeps into him. He looks at his mouth with the long bar through it and thinks it looks cool – pretty in an odd kind of way – but considering it in context of his whole face it seems out of place. He doesn't recognise himself right away, but he smiles up at Otabek all the same.

“Thanks,” he says, the metal inside his mouth scraping uncomfortably against his bottom teeth. “It looks cool.” He means it – abstractly.

“You happy with it?” asks Otabek, looking pleased when Yuri nods.

They hear a knock at the door and Sara pops her head around it. “Hey,” she says. “Are you guys done? Mila's kind of nervous and wants someone to hold her hand.”

Yuri and Otabek follow her into the other room where Mila sits backwards on a chair, arms hugging the backrest. Yuri can see the faint ink stencil of a butterfly on the back of her shoulder and the tattoo machine set up beside her. Her grin, when she looks at him, is wobbly.

“Yuuuuura,” she coos, “hold my hand?”

Yuri leans against the counter and takes her hand. He expects Otabek to leave, but instead he lifts himself up beside the sink and settles on the counter next to Yuri, flashing him a little smile. “Got nothing else booked for the rest of the day and we close in an hour – I might as well stick around.”

Yuri can't keep a pleased little flush out of his face and when he meets Mila's gaze she grins up at him.

“You're looking like more of a bad boy every day, Yura,” she comments as Sara starts up the machine.

“Yeah...” Yuri absently nudges the inside end of the lip piercing with the tip of his tongue until it stings. “We'll see what my grandfather thinks later.”

“He let you keep the ears,” points out Mila.

“Yeah he said I was big and ugly enough to make my own mistakes,” says Yuri, feeling a flutter in his stomach when Otabek laughs.

“So by that logic you should be fine keeping this one,” says Mila.

“Yeah,” says Yuri, though part of him wants that not to be the case.

“If not,” says Otabek, “keep the stud and I'll put it back in for you once you've moved into a place of your own.”

“Thanks,” says Yuri, feeling Mila squeeze his hand and wince. “Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head, eyes closed. “I don't think so. It just feels weird.”

“You'll get used to it soon,” promises Sara. “Then you won't be able to stop.”

“It's true,” says Otabek, leaning forward. As he does so, his thigh brushes against Yuri's forearm, and the sensation makes Yuri's skin tingle. He drops his head forward, letting his hair cover his flush. Otabek continues, “Though it does depend if you're more into piercings or tats. Sara's got some beautiful art on her but isn't so into the metal.”

Sara pauses in drawing to wipe a tissue over Mila's skin. “I prefer the feeling of tats.”

Otabek nods. “And I'm the opposite. I like to get the pain bit over and done with.”

“You do have tats though, right?” asks Mila. “I can see one on your shoulder.”

Yuri looks up to see a sly grin on Mila's face, feeling Otabek moving next to him. Tucking his hair behind his ear with his free hand, Yuri peers sideways at Otabek and feels his mouth go dry when he sees that Otabek has removed his vest. Yuri's eyes rake over Otabek's abdomen, all tight muscles and tanned skin, and he feels a rush of blood go southwards when he sees bars through Otabek's nipples.

“The shoulder one was my first – it needs some cleaning up,” he explains, hopping down from the counter and twisting to show a pair of chunky DJ headphones on his shoulder, the cable spiralling up to the back of his neck and 'plugged' into a port at the top of his spine. “I want some of the lines gone over to neaten them.”

“It looks cool though,” says Mila, and Yuri nods. Otabek turns and points to a sizeable rose on his ribs in a bright blue with yellow accents.

“This one Sara did for me a few months ago,” he says.

“He had to pause a lot,” puts in Sara with a little smile.

“Well it hurt,” says Otabek, throwing Sara a glance that Yuri can't quite read. “That's why I like piercings – the pain is quick.”

“So you have two tattoos and how many piercings?” asks Mila, still devious. Every now and then she squeezes Yuri's hand in pain, but the conversation seems to be keeping her distracted.

Otabek chuckles. “Depends if you count the ladder as one or seven.”

Mila laughs and Yuri frowns. _A ladder? Fuck's that?_

“Let's count it as seven,” says Mila.

“In that case twenty,” says Otabek. “Assuming each nipple is separate too.”

 _Twenty?!_ Yuri isn't sure if he's intimidated or turned on.

He suspects it's both.

 

All the way home, Yuri worries at the inside end of the lip piercing. The wound stings sharply, bringing reflexive tears to his eyes as he walks. He's still not sure it suits him, if he's honest with himself, but he's also very aware of how much it cost (Potya will be on the off-brand cat food until Yuri can find more work) and he hates the idea of getting rid of it when Otabek was the one to give it to him.

He's old enough to admit that he's crushing hard, and seeing Otabek shirtless has only served to exacerbate that crush. Just the thought of Otabek's body – bare and so close to him – makes Yuri ache. He wants to be able to reach out and feel Otabek's skin like Otabek held his face, wants to brush his fingers over Otabek's spiked nipples like Otabek touched his lips, wants to feel Otabek's body pressed against his own.

More than that though – more than physical, because Yuri's fine with purely physical attraction and it's only ever more than that which scares him – Yuri wants to _know_ him. He gets fleeting glances at Otabek's life from his Instagram (his motorbike, DJ set ups, glasses of beer, but mostly pictures of the tattoos and piercings he's done) but Yuri yearns for something _more_. He wants to sit with Otabek and talk, and have time to talk – not to mention have the presence of mind to actually manage a decent conversation. Wanting all of it is daunting though, and he has no idea what to do.

He mulls it over, thinking maybe he should talk to Mila about it ( _God she'll be so smug._ ) as he arrives home and unlocks the front door. Potya scampers to greet him, purring madly, and Yuri sinks his fingers into her soft fur.

“Yurochka?” Nikolai calls from the kitchen over the sound of the oven fan. Yuri can smell the pirozhki and it helps quell the roiling anxiety in his stomach. “Are you home?”

“Yeah,” calls Yuri, kicking off his shoes. The movement of his lips makes the stud knock into his teeth again and he winces a little, glancing at his reflection in the hallway mirror. His face still looks weird and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He wanders through to the kitchen, finding his grandfather putting a baking tray of pastries into the oven while another sits cooling on the table. “Do you need any help?”

Nikolai shakes his head, closing the oven door. “Almost done, but you can help me with the washing up.” He wipes his hands on his apron and looks up, stopping short when he sees Yuri's face. Yuri says nothing, one finger tracing the knot in the wooden door-frame he used to stare up at when he was a child. After the silence has stretched into being not-quite-uncomfortable, Nikolai raises an eyebrow.

“Yurochka what is that?”

Yuri hesitates, tongue still tracing the edge of the stud, before he finally says. “It's... it's a... a lip ring.”

“I can see that much,” says Nikolai. He continues to eye Yuri, stretching the moment out. “Are you sure you're not in a gang?”

“Yes I'm sure,” sighs Yuri. Part of him wants his grandfather to be angry but instead he's faced with his strange lack of reaction. “I got it done today.”

Nikolai frowns. “Didn't we agree that you weren't going to get anything that might affect your chances at finding a job?”

“Well a lot of people have piercings now,” says Yuri. His voice isn't nearly what it would be if he was sure of his position, and he's well aware of how much his tone veers into plaintive rather than assertive. “Really, it's not that big a deal.”

Nikolai huffs. “And what if I tell you _I_ dislike it?”

Yuri goes to bite his lip and pain flares in his mouth. “Ah– I... well, you said I was old enough to make my own mistakes, so...”

He trails off, unsure of where he even wants to take the point. Meeting his grandfather's gaze (somehow), Yuri sees the twist of his mouth under his moustache before he says, “Well I can't force you to remove it.”

Yuri's heart sinks.

“But...”

Yuri cocks an eyebrow, a little twinge in his stomach.

“I can remind you that you're living under my roof,” continues Nikolai. “And while that is the case I will make the rules. You can continue not to pay rent and take it out or keep it and start paying.”

In any other circumstance, Yuri would explode. As it is he sighs (half in relief). “I'll go take it out.”

 

By the following morning, Yuri's lip has already mostly healed over. He gazes at it in the bathroom mirror, stroking at it gently with the pad of his middle finger. More than the sting of the wound he feels the anxious gnaw of uncertainty in his stomach. What will Otabek say? He seemed relaxed when he offered to re-pierce it for him if this happened, but Yuri feels a sense of... disloyalty, almost, when he thinks of how little he fought to keep it. Will Otabek know? Will he be angry or, worse, upset?

Yuri eyes the stud where the left it next to the toothbrush holder. For one very stupid second he thinks of taking it in hand and shoving it back through his lip just so that he can save face, but the looming threat of rent stills his hand. Realistically (and quite apart from anything else) he simply can't afford it, especially if he doesn't want Potya to grow to hate him. With a sigh, he turns off the bathroom light and shuffles across the hallway back to his bedroom.

Flopping down on the bed, Yuri reaches out one hand automatically for Potya and the other for his phone. A memory from yesterday pops into his head and he googles 'ladder piercing', tapping on 'images' – it's easier just to see, he figures. His brows furrow in confusion when several pictures of bananas full of barbells appear – _what the fuck_? He scrolls down...

And promptly throws his phone across the room with a yelp. It lands in his laundry basket as Yuri's hands fly up to cover his mouth. He can feel blazing heat in his cheeks and Potya's claws digging into his thigh in surprise. He glances down at her to see wide blue eyes staring sternly up at him and slowly lowers his hands.

“Sorry,” he whispers, reaching out to gently stroke behind her ears. The claws in his leg recede a little. “Just... uh...” He stares over at the laundry basket. “Got a surprise.”

Tentatively, he kisses the top of Potya's head before getting up off the bed and tip toeing over to the laundry basket to fish his phone out. When he sees that he's somehow avoided cracking the screen, he breathes a sigh of relief, but then he wakes the phone back up and he's faced with his search results. On the screen are pictures of dicks, lined with barbells like the bananas at the top of the page. Yuri immediately understands why they're called ladder piercings, and really he's astounded that he didn't figure it out earlier, particularly how he could see almost all of Otabek's other piercings already.

Of course, thinking of Otabek in this context only serves to remind Yuri that Otabek _has_ this on his body, and the thought brings a heaviness to settle between Yuri's legs. He sighs, letting the feeling bloom and grow within him briefly before he crosses back to the bed and scoops up Potya. She tries to protest but Yuri holds her tight and toes open the door. Once she's settled with food, Yuri beats a hasty retreat back to his room and closes the door.

He's already nearly half-hard when he gets on the bed and wriggles out of his pyjama bottoms. The slight chill of the room hits his naked body and gives him goosebumps as he opens up Instagram and finds Otabek's page. There's a couple of new pictures since yesterday afternoon: a tattoo of a jellyfish on someone's ankle and (from about twenty minutes ago) a selfie.

Oh. Not just a selfie.

A _shirtless_ selfie.

 

 **otabek-altin** Fresh out of the shower, ready for the day ahead! #morning #selfie #tattoos #piercings #gotacravingforcookies #passthemilkplease #thatfuckingdoanythingforyamegadeth 23m

 

Admittedly, Yuri's not sure what's going on with the hashtags, but the picture alone is making his mouth water. He hesitates in liking the picture, but then he hears Mila in his head telling him to grow a pair and double-taps the screen, letting his eyes slide down to the low waistband of Otabek's jeans. The images he found on Google creep back into his mind and along with them come thoughts of Otabek: how does it look on _him_ , Yuri wonders? Otabek said he was rocking seven rungs on his ladder, and the most Yuri saw in any of the pictures (the most that would comfortably fit, he suspects) was five. If Otabek can fit seven... The thought sends equal blood to his face and his groin, and he lets out a shaky sigh as his eyes rake back up to Otabek's face. Dark eyes gaze steadily back at him out of the phone screen, seeming to stare right through Yuri, right to his soul, and he feels a shiver run down his body.

Would Otabek look at him like that, like he has some kind of secret he wants to tell him?Yuri remembers the feeling of Otabek's hands on his face, remembers the warmth and the slight roughness of his fingers when Otabek touched his lip. Otabek's lips would be warm too, Yuri decides, but soft, pliable against Yuri's own, and they'd part easily at the press of Yuri's tongue. The lip ring is something that gives him pause. How would that feel? He's never kissed anyone with one before. Would it be a distraction? He's sure he'd find it strange at first., but then Otabek would run his hands up Yuri's back and he would get lost in the sensations coursing through his body.

A soft sigh leaves Yuri's lips as he runs one hand over his chest, plotting the course Otabek would take. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, feeling it pucker and harden to a little peak. A rough twist brings a cut-off gasp to Yuri's throat – in his mind Otabek grins wolfishly against his skin and does it again, Yuri's fingers tugging on his nipple once more. He whimpers quietly, a jolt going down his spine as he looks back at his phone. Tapping on the screen to wake it up again, Yuri lets out a soft moan when Otabek's face reappears.

How would his body feel? If Yuri pulled on the longer bits of his hair would he stay silent or would he let out sweet, delicious sounds into Yuri's ear? Would he groan if Yuri ran his nails over his shoulders to caress his taut back muscles? Would he bite at the skin of Yuri's neck if Yuri's slim fingers found his nipples and played with the bars?

Yuri drops his phone beside him, eyes closing as his hand slides down to his swollen cock. The sensation draws a strangled sound from him and he squeezes, teasing a harsher touch with the twist of his hand because it's how he'd want Otabek to do it. He tugs rhythmically, biting his lip to keep the moans as quiet as he can and hissing in pain when he pulls on his closing wound. He squeezes his dick again, imagining how he would unbutton Otabek's trousers and push them down along with his boxers. How would the ladder feel? If Yuri took Otabek's cock in his hand and ran his fingers up and down, ghosting over each barbell, what kind of sounds would Otabek make? Yuri's hand speeds up as he imagines hot breath in his ear and dulcet moans of pleasure, a low rumble in his chest and strong fingers dragging Yuri closer to the edge.

Soft whimpers and breathless groans escape Yuri's mouth, the slight shaking in his thighs a sure sign of his imminent orgasm. He brings his free hand down, stroking over his balls to send electrifying sparks through his body. Do Otabek's hips stutter in the same way when he's close like this? Do his dark eyes grow darker and his breath shorter? If Yuri gave all this to him, what would he say?

Yuri comes hard, his climax hitting him suddenly and making his body jolt and shudder. His lips are half-formed around an 'o' as he rides out the bright blaze of pleasure and eventually stills, slumping boneless against his pillows. As he catches his breath (and hurriedly cleans up with half a packet of tissues from his bedside table), Yuri's phone buzzes. Once he's content he's cleaned off his hands enough, he picks it up... to see a message from Otabek. A weight settles in his stomach. Speak of the devil. Or, you know, jack off over him.

 

 **Otabek** : Hey, how's the labret?

 

The weight drags down. Yuri's not sure how else to phrase it, so he settles for the truth (insofar as he wants to reveal it).

 

 **Yuri** : Sadly grandpa made me take it out. :/ I figured it was easier than an argument.

 

He waits, breath suspended in his throat, for Otabek to rip him a new one. Three little dots appear in his phone screen, dancing and rolling, before a reply appears.

 

 **Otabek** : Ah that's a shame, but you did say it might happen.

 

Yuri breathes a sigh of relief, but it's cut short when he sees the ellipsis again.

 

 **Otabek** : I can offer you a discount if you want another piercing, seeing as you didn't get to keep this one. :)

 

There's a little flutter in Yuri's stomach and he smiles a little.

 

 **Yuri** : Really? That would be cool.

 **Otabek** : Yeah, no worries. How's it healing?

 

Yuri brushes one thumb over the wound.

 

 **Yuri** : It's kinda swollen and a little tender?

 **Otabek** : Could be nothing, should be nothing if you're keeping it clean. :P Can I see?

 

Green eyes grow wide as Yuri flushes. Otabek wants a picture? Of him? No, it can't be. Just his lip. Yuri hits the blue camera icon, switching to front view to show his face on the screen. He tries to zoom in on his lips but every time he does the camera loses focus and eventually he zooms back out in frustration. He bites his lower lip, drawing it back a little to expose the scab. He takes the picture and sends it before he can think about it too hard. There's a long, slow minute (or maybe thirty seconds) where the screen displays 'Seen: otabek-altin' before the ellipsis comes back.

 

 **Otabek** : Looks okay to me, just be careful not to bite it.

 

Yuri thinks of when he muffled his groans.

 

 **Yuri** : I'll try not to.

 **Otabek** : Did you just do a workout?

 

A little frown creases Yuri's forehead.

 

 **Yuri** : No, why?

 **Otabek** : You look a little flushed is all.

 

_Oh shit._

 

 **Yuri** : I mean... unless you count carrying Potya around as a workout?

 **Otabek** : Your cat?

 

It probably shouldn't come as a surprise that Otabek has learned his cat's name (especially as ninety percent of Yuri's Instagram is filled with pictures of her) but at the same time he feels a tender little pang at the knowledge.

 

 **Yuri** : Yeah, it's not a workout exactly but there is a certain amount of hefting involved.

 **Otabek** : Haha fair enough. I've gotta go, gotta bike to work, but I'm glad your lip looks okay, sorry you had to take it out.

 **Yuri** : Not your fault, hope you have a good day.

 **Otabek** : Catch you later. :)

 

Yuri exhales, dropping his phone on the bed again and covering his face with his hands. Otabek seemed to buy the cat thing, but Yuri's still mortified, and he knows it's a feeble excuse. Once the heat in his face recedes, he gathers the tissues and tosses them in the bin before pulling his pyjama bottoms back on and going to look for some breakfast.

 

The hole in Yuri's lip closes up completely within a few days, but the twinge of embarrassment remains, coiled tight behind his diaphragm. He considers telling Mila about what happened, but then he realises he'd have to admit to having sent Otabek a selfie moments after jacking it to his Instagram photos and decides some things are better left unsaid. He hears from Otabek again a few days later (right after Otabek likes a picture of the tiger T-shirt Yuri's grandfather got him in town), and manages to get through another chat where he assures Otabek that his lip feels fine. Otabek doesn't ask for another picture this time, and Yuri thinks about sending one anyway but then decides against it.

On the way home from a temporary hotel reception job, Yuri gets a notification (and yes, he set up notifications) to say that Otabek has posted a new picture. Yuri opens up Instagram and stops dead in his tracks, just outside the entrance to a playground. On-screen is a design in black and white of a tiger's face, mouth open in a roar. The picture is so vivid, even without colour, that Yuri can almost hear the roar in his head. He scrolls slowly down to see the caption: 'Just designed his handsome boy! Got some cancellations upcoming so if anyone wants this on them hit me up for more info!'

Yuri stares at the screen for a long moment, eyes running along every line of the design. He's never wanted a tattoo before, but now... Well, he's already had a chunk of metal put through his lip on a whim, and he's fairly certain that he just has a thing for piercings and tattoos now, given that he's imagined himself intimately acquainted with all seven of the barbells in Otabek's ladder piercings by now. He hesitates for only a little longer before opening a message to Otabek.

 

 **Yuri** : The tiger tat, I want it!

 

He waits for a second, thinking that Otabek is probably busy and won't respond right away, and he goes back to staring at the picture. Not two minutes later, however, he gets a reply.

 

 **Otabek** : Awesome, when are you looking to do this? :)

 

Two weeks later, his stint at the hotel mercifully over, Yuri walks through the door to The Skin Sorcerer. He's buzzing with anticipation, his fingers and toes alight. On Otabek's instruction, he's eaten a good lunch (far more than he'd normally eat) and he has a bottle of water and a fizzy drink in his bag. The purple-haired lady behind the counter (Yuri realises he should probably learn her name, because now he has to refer to her as the pink-haired lady) greets him with a smile and a wave while she speaks on the phone and he sits down to wait. A few minutes go by and dread starts to creep into his stomach. He knows these things are meant to hurt and he's been ignoring that until now, stubbornly believing that his pain tolerance is enough to get him through it.

The radio DJ starts talking about the traffic and Yuri tries to focus on the words.

“Nervous?” asks the pink-haired woman, now off the phone, and Yuri nods. She smiles sympathetically. “You needn't be. Otabek's really good. He'll let you go at your own pace.”

Before Yuri can say anything in response, he hears a door open upstairs and two sets of footsteps descending, along with a pair of voices. His ears pick up at the warm, velvety tone of Otabek's voice, but he doesn't recognise the other. When they both get downstairs he sees a tall, attractive guy with dark hair in an undercut like Otabek's, but with an easier smile on his face and a more jocular manner that Yuri knows he would find irritating over a protracted period. He's rocking some fairly intricate black line designs on his upper arms and wears them confidently, knowing how good they look. When Otabek sees Yuri, he gives him a smile and the other guy looks around.

“Ah I see why you were in such a hurry to get rid of me,” he laughs, making Otabek roll his eyes.

“This is my next client: Yuri,” Otabek explains. “And I finished with you an hour ago.”

The other guy waves a hand. “Whatever. I'll text you when I get my work schedule and we can go get a beer.”

“Sounds good,” says Otabek. Once the guy has paid and left, he turns his attention back to Yuri. “Hey, sorry about that.”

“It's okay,” says Yuri, getting to his feet. “Friend of yours?”

“Yeah,” says Otabek. “I know JJ from way back – he's an idiot but I've never known anyone more loyal and he doesn't trust anyone else to tattoo him.”

“Why not?” asks Yuri as the two of them start heading upstairs.

“I did a cover-up for his first tattoo and since then he's sworn off ever seeing anyone else for them.”

“What did you have to cover up?” asks Yuri curiously.

“Trust me, it's better that you don't know,” says Otabek as they enter his studio and he closes the door behind them. “So, tiger on your hip, yeah?”

Yuri nods, gulping. Suddenly, it all feels very real.

“Hey, relax, it's okay,” says Otabek with that wonderful little smile. “It's really not that scary – I promise.”

Yuri nods, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. He hops up onto the bench while Otabek starts gathering everything he needs. There's a moment where Yuri just watches, biting his tongue on a question, but eventually he asks, “Didn't you say it hurts though?”

The bar in Otabek's eyebrow twitches as he raises his eyebrow. “Yeah, sorry, I didn't phrase it well. I like piercings because they're quicker, sure, but it's also because I'm really picky about tats.”

“Oh.” Yuri isn't sure what he was expecting. He watches Otabek gather more things, watches the way his body moves under his tight t-shirt and his artful fingers picking stuff up and putting stuff down. “How long did you deliberate over yours?”

Otabek puts down a needle in a packet on the tattoo machine and seems to think on Yuri's question. “I started my shoulder piece when I was nearly twenty and got it finished around my twenty-first birthday – it took a few sittings. Then the rose was in two sittings earlier this year.”

Having gathered everything he needs, Otabek meets Yuri's gaze and grins at him.

“You ready for this?”

Ten minutes later, happy with the placement of the stencil, Yuri arranges himself as comfortably as possible on the bench. Otabek settles in a chair beside it, face a little above Yuri's hip. Yuri wriggles a little, but then Otabek's hand comes to rest on his stomach. The warm, dry weight of it makes Yuri start and then still, Otabek's touch grounding him finally.

“You okay?”asks Otabek, and Yuri can feel the resonance of his deep voice in his toes. Suddenly, he's painfully aware of how low down he's had to push his jeans and underwear. Heat pools inside him at the thought of Otabek touching his skin, the memories of late nights thinking about exactly this coming back to him as he lies there.

“Yuri?”

Yuri lets out a shaky breath. _Call me Yura_ , he wants to say.

What he does is nod. “Go for it.”

Otabek nods, raising the tattoo gun.

The first touch of the needle to Yuri's skin makes him gasp, the pain sharp and causing his leg to tense up involuntarily. But Otabek continues, the feeling spreading in a thin line over Yuri's flesh, and Yuri tries to welcome the sensation of it. He stares at the ceiling, watching the way the light from the window changes with the passing traffic outside, but suddenly it seems too far away. There's darkness dancing at the edges of his vision and he vaguely hears himself say Otabek's name over the mechanical buzz of the tattoo machine.

The buzzing stops along with the feeling of the needle on Yuri's skin and Otabek's face appears above him. There's a concerned tilt to his mouth as he puts one hand on Yuri's shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks, squeezing Yuri's shoulder gently. Head swimming, Yuri nods, but Otabek frowns. “Are you sure? You're white as a sheet.”

Yuri nods again. “I'm fine, just carry on.”

For a moment, he thinks Otabek will do it, but then the hand on his shoulder moves under it and Otabek slowly lifts him into a sitting position.

“Did you bring snacks?” he asks, hands holding Yuri's shoulders to keep him upright while the blood gradually returns to his head.

“Water and lemonade,” says Yuri. “In my bag.”

Otabek's hands leave Yuri's shoulders and he reaches down to Yuri's bag on the floor, leaving it beside him on the bench (and even though there's nothing embarrassing in there, Yuri's grateful Otabek didn't just go through it himself).The lemonade is a little warm from being in his bag, but sipping it slowly helps Yuri come back into his own body before a cereal bar lands in his lap. He looks up at Otabek, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“What's this?” he asks.

“Eat it,” says Otabek, voice firm but warm, sweet to Yuri's ears. “Slowly if you want but the sugar will help.”

Yuri drops his gaze down to his lap. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Nearly passing out thirty seconds in,” says Yuri. “It's pathetic.”

“Don't say that.” The tone of Otabek's voice makes Yuri finally look up. “I've seen plenty of people do the same. I tattooed a huge dude a few weeks ago who cried when I got to his inner arm, and last year a girl I was doing a back piece on had to go throw up.”

“Oh...” Yuri says thoughtfully.

“It's fine, you just take a break and we'll get back to it when you're ready,” says Otabek, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a swig. Yuri watches the gulping motion at his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, and then the sinewy stretch of his arm as he puts the bottle down again. “How are you feeling?”

Yuri jolts to attention. “Uh, better. I think I might be good to go again.”

“You sure?” When Yuri nods, Otabek smiles. “Cool, just tell me if you need me to pause again.”

Yuri doesn't need to pause again as it turns out. Perhaps because he knows what to expect from the rest of the session and can relax into it more, or perhaps because Otabek starts chatting to him and the conversation distracts him, but either way Yuri finds it easy to get through. That's not to say it doesn't _hurt_ , and in some instances Yuri is actually grateful for the scratching feeling – every time Otabek's free hand touches him in a new place Yuri turns his focus on the slight pain to avoid popping an awkward boner. At one point, Otabek's hand comes to rest on Yuri's lower tummy, arm lying alongside Yuri's groin, and Yuri desperately thinks of every gross thing he can (watching Viktor make out with his boyfriend Yuuri being the main one) until Otabek moves his arm again.

Eventually, Otabek wipes the tattoo for the final time and turns off the machine. Yuri sits up slowly, feeling a sting in his skin, and grins wide when Otabek holds up a mirror so he can see the tiger on his hip. The ink stands out in stark contrast to his skin, even with it pink and swollen right now, and just like when Yuri saw the design on Instagram he can hear the animal's cry in his head.

“Oh man this is awesome!”Yuri tries not to squeal but he can hear the pitch change in his voice. “Thank you so much!”

Otabek laughs a little. “I'm glad you're happy. Came out pretty good right?”

He goes through the aftercare information with Yuri, writing things down and offering recommendations for products to use on it. As Yuri talks with him, his heart thrums irresistibly, swelling and reaching for Otabek. He's getting in deeper by the minute, and he's not sure he wants to stop.

 

Nikolai doesn't see the tattoo for the next few days – Yuri is very careful to keep it covered for now so that he doesn't see it in its fresh, red and gross-looking state. If he's going to show his grandfather, he wants it to be healed, or at least most of the way there. He washes it every morning and evening, using the soap Otabek suggested he use, and puts the creams and ointments on it. Even though it never sees sunlight, he even puts on sun cream. Despite the grumpy looks and grumbling he gets in return, Yuri makes Potya sleep on his right side so as not to rub against the design. He placates her with strokes and scratches, and it turns out to be a very good thing as he soon discovers how _itchy_ a healing tattoo feels. About a week after getting it, the itchiness gets so bad that he calls Mila.

“Is it supposed to itch this much?” he asks while staring at his reflection in his bedroom mirror. He's shirtless and has left the door slightly ajar to let the through-breeze soothe his skin. The gentle sound of the TV in the living room and the occasional snore from Nikolai in front of it drift in. “Like, is it possible to be allergic to tattoo ink?”

“You're probably fine,” says Mila. “Mine was crazy itchy about ten days in.”

“How crazy itchy?” asks Yuri. “What did you do about it? I can't scratch.”

“Yeah, duh,” laughs Mila. “I just kept busy – you should do the same.”

“Right...” Yuri glances over at where Potya is dozing on his pillow, but before he can say anything else Mila chuckles knowingly.

“So is there anyone you might be able to keep busy with?” she asks. “Like a certain someone with twenty piercings?”

Yuri doesn't roll his eyes, only because he's too busy frowning at the question. “I don't think so. I don't think he's even interested in me.”

“What makes you say that?” asks Mila.

“Just... I don't know,” sighs Yuri, staring at himself in the mirror. “He's... he's so _cool_ , and I don't see why someone that cool would have any interest in me.”

“Aww, Yura,” says Mila. “I think you're plenty cool enough for Otabek. You just haven't really tried yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well have you tried asking him out?”

Yuri flushes. “No.”

“So maybe you could try that?” she suggests. “I mean, I know it's a totally novel idea but surely worth a go?”

“I... maybe?” Yuri says, sinking onto his bed. “I just... I don't know, I feel like maybe I'm not the kind of person he'd want to date.”

“Don't be daft,” says Mila. “You're cute and smart and sometimes you can be kind of funny.”

“Thanks,” Yuri deadpans.

“I'm just teasing you,” she giggles. “Seriously though, I think you guys would be adorable together and you should totally go for it.”

Despite himself, Yuri can't keep a little smile from his face. “Okay... okay.”

“There's just one thing bothering me about him,” says Mila thoughtfully.

“What's that?”

“Well, he said he's got twenty piercings if you count the ladder as seven separate ones right?” When Yuri makes a noise of affirmation, she continues, “I've only been able to count nineteen.”

Yuri frowns, thinking through all the little bits of metal he's seen on Otabek's body. He can't quite remember how many he has in each ear. “You didn't miscount?”

Mila hums in thought. “I don't think so – but he might have a secret piercing somewhere!”

“Like where?”

Mila giggles again. “Maybe his balls,” she suggests, “we already know he's enough of a freak to have a ladder.”

Yuri feels his face colour at the idea. “Maybe.”

“Or maybe an anal piercing!” says Mila, and Yuri sees the flush in his face spread straight down his chest in the mirror.

“That's not a real thing,” he says with conviction – because surely that _can't_ be.

“I can send you a picture I found online.”

“I beg you not to,” says Yuri, prompting another laugh from Mila. “I've got to go start dinner, talk to you later. Hope this itching stops soon.”

After he's hung up and pulled his t-shirt back on, Yuri gets up and goes to open his door, almost keeling over in shock when he finds Nikolai standing outside.

“Gah!” Yuri grips the door handle for support as he meets his grandfather's gaze. “H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” says Nikolai, arms folded across his chest. “What's itching?”

“Nothing,” says Yuri, too fast.

“Yurochka.” Nikolai's voice is a clear warning, but when Yuri hesitates in responding, he asks, “Do you need me to make you a doctor's appointment?”

“No, I... it's fine,” says Yuri, shoulders slumping a little. Slowly he lifts the bottom of his t-shirt to show Nikolai the tiger on his left hip. The redness has gone down by now but the tattoo is still scabby and parts of it are peeling. Nikolai says nothing, staring at it in silent scrutiny, and Yuri doesn't dare speak either. Eventually, Nikolai sighs.

“And how much did that cost?”

Yuri shifts uncomfortably. “A lot.”

Nikolai shakes his head. “Is this what your savings are going on?”

“Y... yeah.”

“Is he worth it?”

“What?” Yuri blinks in surprise at his grandfather.

“This boy you like,” clarifies Nikolai, finally looking to Yuri's face. “The one you're trying to impress.”

Yuri drops the t-shirt, letting it fall over the design. “I think so,” he says. “Or... I don't know, I _hope_ so.”

Nikolai nods. “Just be sure this is something you want. I know you wouldn't do anything you didn't want to, and I know I said you were old enough to make your own mistakes–”

“You said I was big and ugly enough,” puts in Yuri.

“Eh, same thing,” says Nikolai, unfolding his arms. “But you understand what I'm saying?”

“Yeah,” concedes Yuri. “I'm okay.”

“Good,” says Nikolai. “Come help with dinner – I need you to chop onions.”

They cook together without saying much, listening instead to the radio as they stand side by side at the counter. Once the soup is bubbling and filling the kitchen with a delicious scent, Yuri gathers the knives and chopping boards to wash them up while his grandfather slices bread. With his hands buried in suds, Yuri throws a look over his shoulder.

“What do you think of it?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Nikolai puts down the bread knife and stirs the soup.

“My tiger.”

Nikolai looks up from the pan, giving Yuri a wry smile. “It's nicely done,” he says. “But if you get a puma and a scorpion to go with it I will disinherit you.”

Yuri colours and turns back to the sink. “Are you ever going to stop mocking me for what I named my cat when I was eleven?”

Nikolai sniggers. “Well it's been nine years already.”

Yuri pouts at the soapy water.

 

After a few more weeks the tattoo starts to heal properly and the itching fades. Eventually, Yuri feels happy enough with it to take a mirror selfie showing it off and post it to Instagram, tagging both The Skin Sorcerer and Otabek. The reactions are fast: Yuri is good at tagging and he knows it, so he gets a load of likes right away, and a handful of comments. Like with the piercings, much of the response is surprised: Viktor leaves several shocked emojis and nothing else, and Georgi asks if it's real. Yuri scoffs, not bothering to respond to either. Mila leaves a comment reading 'I'm glad the itching stopped!' to which Yuri replies 'Yeah you and me both.' but he still doesn't get the reaction he's looking for. Eventually, he has to stop waiting and go make some lunch, and when he comes back he sees a like from The Skin Sorcerer (among others), but still nothing from Otabek. He tries to ignore the little gnaw in his stomach and puts his phone down. He's probably busy, that's all.

When he's lying in bed that night with the lights off and Potya purring into his side, Yuri checks his Instagram yet again: still nothing. He frowns and sends a message.

 

 **Yuri** : Oi, you dead?

 

He knows it's kind of a dumb idea, but he's done it now. He lies there in the dark, scrolling Instagram and scratching little circles into Potya's fur. Eventually his phone chimes with the arrival of a reply and his heart quickens at the sight of Otabek's name and picture.

 

 **Otabek** : No, still alive. What's up?

 

Yuri frowns.

 

 **Yuri** : Did you see my picture?

 

There's a long pause between 'Read: otabek-altin' and the three dots to indicate him typing.

 

 **Otabek** : Oh man, my phone must have not told me again – that looks awesome! Thanks for posting it!

 **Yuri** : It's cool, I wanted to wait until it was better healed before I posted it.

 **Otabek** : Yeah it's a good idea, I'm so glad you're happy with it!

 **Yuri** : Of course I am, it's amazing.

 **Otabek** : Do you mind if I repost it? Helps my portfolio.

 **Yuri** : Go for it, I don't mind at all.

 **Otabek** : Awesome, thanks. :) What did your grandfather say?

 **Yuri** : He wasn't jumping for joy.

 **Otabek** : Oh dear, I'm sorry.

 **Yuri** : It's okay, couldn't make me take it off, but I probably shouldn't get any more soon.

 **Otabek** : Fair enough, can't let you get in trouble again. ;)

 

Yuri feels Potya's warm weight leave his side and he watches her dark fluffy tail disappearing through the ajar door. He bites the inside of his cheek before sending another message.

 

 **Yuri** : Did you ever have a problem like this? Like, when you were younger?

 

The dots on-screen appear, roll, disappear and reappear again.

 

 **Otabek** : Sort of, my parents weren't happy about me getting a nose bridge piercing, so I took it out and then went and got my nipples done instead.

 **Yuri** : And they were okay with that?

 **Otabek** : They didn't know, I wore a shirt around them from then on. ;)

 

Yuri cocks an eyebrow and rolls onto his side.

 

 **Yuri** : Wasn't it hard to keep it a secret though?

 **Otabek** : Sometimes, but I knew I wanted it and it was important to me.

 

Yuri reads the last message a couple of times, tongue running thoughtfully along the ridge of his hard palate before Otabek sends another.

 

 **Otabek** : Will I be seeing you around at all?

 

The silence in Yuri's bedroom suddenly feels too heavy and warm. What does he mean? Yuri would never count himself lucky enough to think that Otabek likes him in the same way he likes Otabek, but he's not sure what to say. He stares at his phone for a lingering moment before finally responding.

 

 **Yuri** : I'm not sure, I might need to chill on the additions for a while.

 **Otabek** : Yeah, I got you – don't be a stranger though, it's nice to see you. :)

 

In that moment, Yuri knows he needs to get another piercing.

 

If Yuri was nervous before his tattoo, it's nothing compared to today. When he pushes open the door to The Skin Sorcerer, the knot in his stomach draws tight, holding itself behind his ribs in a way that almost hurts. He looks to the front desk to see Otabek sitting behind it, and his skin seems to tingle.

“Hey,” greets Otabek with a wide smile that lights his whole face and Yuri has never seen before. He gets up, stepping around the desk, and Yuri's eyes drop immediately to his arms: the tanned, muscled shoulders and splash of ink coming out of his tank top.

“Hi,” Yuri manages to get out, looking up again. “How are you?”

“Not bad,” says Otabek. “Just waiting for my next appointment to arrive but they're a little late.” He winks.

Yuri sighs. “Yeah, sorry. I meant to be here early but I had to wrestle a ball of wool off Potya so she didn't swallow it and land me with a vet bill.”

Otabek's smile turns quizzical. “What?”

“Four-thirty, right?”

“Uh...” Otabek turns to check the appointments book on the desk. “Sara didn't write down the name.”

“She definitely knew it was me,” says Yuri. “She asked how my tiger was.”

“Oh... I guess she wrote down what you were getting wrong,” says Otabek, giving Yuri an amused grin. “Seems she thought it would be funny to write down that you were getting a Prince Albert.” He laughs, but when Yuri says nothing, he falls slowly silent. “Wait, you're...” He raises an eyebrow, the barbell through it slanting, gazing at Yuri. “You actually booked it?”

Yuri nods, attempting defiance.

“Huh...” Otabek leans back against the desk and stares at him.

“What?” asks Yuri, the scrutiny uncomfortable in its silence.

“I wasn't expecting that,” says Otabek. He carries on staring at Yuri. “You're sure you want it?”

Yuri nods again, even as his stomach twinges. “Are we going to stand around talking or are we going to do this?”

Despite himself, his voice is steady, and he manages not to break eye contact with Otabek. His hands twist tense in his pockets as Otabek shrugs.

“Okay, follow me.”

He locks the shop door, flipping the sign to 'Closed', before leading Yuri up the stairs. In Otabek's studio, Yuri gets up onto the bench as always, trying to keep the shaking in his limbs from showing. Otabek closes the door behind them and crosses to the counter.

“So how much do you know about how this is done?” he asks.

“Not much,” Yuri admits. Truthfully, he hasn't wanted to dwell on it too much; the idea of a needle near his dick is pretty fucking frightening _without_ overthinking it and he doesn't want to back out. He's taking solace in what he read online about it only being a moment of pain. Once it's done, he wants to have the courage to ask Otabek out. When he gets inevitably shot down, then maybe Mila will stop bothering him about it and he can go away to nurse his ego.

Otabek turns back to him, holding up a packet with a large needle inside. The sight of it makes Yuri's stomach lurch.

“Yuri.”

Yuri looks into Otabek's face, seeing his mouth tilted in concern.

“Are you okay?” Otabek asks. “You look like you did when we started your tiger and I haven't even come near you.”

Yuri nods shakily, looking away. “Yeah, just do it.”

He listens to Otabek stepping closer, waits to be told to lie down, to pull down his jeans, but Otabek says nothing. When the silence drags on too long, Yuri deigns to look up, finding Otabek standing in front of him.

“You need to relax,” Otabek says simply. Yuri thinks he nods – it's hard to tell when Otabek is so close he can smell his skin and feel the warmth of his body. Otabek gives him a small smile. “Tell me if I'm wrong, but...”

One hand comes up to cup Yuri's chin and slowly, as though afraid to scare him, Otabek leans in to press a kiss to Yuri's mouth. His lips are soft and supple, just as Yuri imagined, and the lip ring contrasts them, a little line at the edge of Yuri's mouth. All too soon, the kiss ends, and Yuri chases Otabek's lips with his own for a moment, eyes fluttering open. Otabek's hand stays warm on Yuri's face, fingers spanning along his jaw, and he's looking at Yuri like they're the only two people in the world. He tucks Yuri's hair behind his ear and Yuri's scalp tingles.

“Sorry,” says Otabek, “if that was a little sudden, I mean. I've wanted to do that for a while.”

Yuri gapes up at him, mouth open, before he catches himself, pulling his hands out from under his thighs. “It's fine. H- how long is a while?”

Otabek runs one finger along Yuri's jaw, his touch gentle. “You remember when you posted the picture of your ears on Instagram?”

“Oh...” Yuri blinks, a smile spreading on his face. “Really?”

Otabek nods, still gazing down at him fondly. “Is that okay?”

Yuri nearly laughs. “Yeah, more than okay!” he says on a grin. “I wanted to kiss you too.” _I wanted to do more than kiss you_ , he doesn't say.

Otabek chuckles. “Yeah?” he asks. His hand moves from Yuri's jaw up to his ear, thumb brushing over the tragus before continuing up into his hair. He twists one lock loosely around his finger as he asks, “Is that why you kept coming back?”

Yuri hesitates, unwilling to lie but embarrassment bringing colour into his cheeks. “I mean... it's not _not_ the reason,” he eventually says. “I did want to see you again but I also really liked how my ears looked and I wanted to look cool.”

Otabek continues playing with Yuri's hair, his other hand on the bench by Yuri's thigh. “I wouldn't have minded you just asking me out,” he says. “Not that I didn't enjoy giving you your tiger or your piercings but I know how dear they are.”

Yuri stares down at his hands curled in his lap. “I didn't think I was... I don't know, just... you're so cool and I wish I was as cool as that.”

Otabek laughs. “I promise you I'm not that cool.”

“Of course you are,” says Yuri, frustration in his tone. “You're this sexy DJ guy with a motorbike and metal and ink all over you. What's not cool about that?”

He's still looking at his hands – it's easier to say what he means like this – and Otabek makes a noise of understanding.

“Is that... Did you book this today because you wanted to impress me?” he asks.

When Yuri doesn't respond, grasping for an answer, he feels Otabek's hand leave his hair to tilt his chin up again so their eyes meet once more.

“Yuri?”

Unable to look away, Yuri flushes again. “Maybe a little bit. I... thought if I was brave enough to... get it done, then I might be brave enough to ask you out.”

Otabek laughs a little, shaking his head before leaning in for another kiss. Yuri's hands reach for Otabek, settling on his shoulders as Otabek's lips move against his own. He feels like he's floating, practically light-headed when they part again.

“That was really dumb,” says Otabek, giving Yuri a disbelieving, serious look.

Yuri opens his mouth, protestations ready under his tongue, but he stops.

“Yeah, okay,” he concedes instead, tension slumping from his shoulders.

“At the risk of sounding preachy, genital piercings are something you should think about for a while before you get them,” says Otabek. “I waited three years before I started my ladder.”

Yuri nods, the mention of the ladder piercing making his blood run hot despite him having thought about it plenty in his own bed. “Yeah it was stupid. Should have just got more in my ears.” He gives Otabek a half-smile, relieved to get a chuckle in response.

“If you still want it in three years let me know,” says Otabek, hands going to Yuri's waist. “I'll do it for you.”

Keen to kiss Otabek again, Yuri puts his arms around his neck and draws him in. The lip ring presses against Yuri's mouth, not hard but insistent, and it twists as Otabek smiles into the kiss. Yuri feels him move closer and instinctively parts his knees to let Otabek stand between them, thighs flush with the bench. At a low, pleased sound from Otabek, Yuri experimentally opens his mouth, flicking his tongue along Otabek's bottom lip, catching the lip ring with the edge. Otabek's lips part and the kiss grows hungrier, his hands at Yuri's waist starting to roam up and down Yuri's back, sometimes into his hair. Suddenly Yuri jolts in surprise and pulls back, blinking at Otabek.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Otabek looks uncharacteristically startled. “Are you okay?”

Yuri nods. “So that's your twentieth...”

“Huh?”

“You said you had twenty,” says Yuri, cheeks pink, “and I could only count nineteen.”

There's a pause before Otabek laughs. “You didn't realise I had a tongue bar?”

Yuri shakes his head. God, that would have changed some of his fantasies... “Can I see?” he asks. Otabek laughs again, opening his mouth and poking out his tongue so that Yuri can see the silver ball nestled there. “Holy shit.”

“You like it then?”

“That's hot as fuck,” Yuri breathes, tugging Otabek against him again. He's prepared for the stud now – or so he thinks. The feeling of the ball edging along his lip has his toes curling in his boots and he can't keep in a soft groan when Otabek runs it over the underside of his tongue. Yuri's fingers – now tangled in the longer parts of Otabek's hair – pull a little and he rouses a low sound from Otabek's chest and hands gripping hard at his hips.

Eventually they have to part for air again, and Yuri finds himself almost panting as Otabek's nose nudges along his jaw and up to his earlobe and his hands rumple the fabric of Yuri's t-shirt.

“You're beautiful,” Otabek murmurs, lips at Yuri's ear, brushing over the tragus piercing. His breath caresses the whorls of Yuri's ear and any kind of reply Yuri might have been about to give melts away into a strangled sound in his throat. “You have no idea how much I've thought about you.”

Yuri's brain short-circuits. Otabek, thinking about him? “How?” he asks, voice coming out as a gasp when he feels Otabek's tongue almost inside his ear. Heat pools inside him, blood quickening with every breath Otabek breathes, and he can't stop thinking of Otabek's hands moving lower, under his clothes.

“How?” Otabek repeats on a soft whisper that rolls down Yuri's spine. “Like this, at least at first. I was lucky enough to know how soft your skin is already. I thought about holding you like this and all the sounds you might make if I kissed you all over.”

“All over?”

Otabek nods. “You don't mind?”

“No! I... I like it.”

“So you wouldn't mind if I did it?” asks Otabek, pulling back to see Yuri's face.

Yuri shakes his head. He wants to ask him to, in a low voice like a seductive purr, but the words don't come – he's struck dumb under Otabek's sticky gaze. The next kiss seems to be enough encouragement however, because Otabek's hands push up inside Yuri's t-shirt, running over his skin. When his warm fingers brush over Yuri's nipples, Yuri breaks the kiss again on a quiet groan, opening his eyes to catch a slow smile spreading on Otabek's face.

“Sensitive?” he asks. At a nod from Yuri, he adds, “Mine never used to be until I got them pierced.”

“R-really?” Yuri asks breathlessly, nipples still under Otabek's ministrations.

“Yeah,” Otabek says, voice husky and heavy. “Feels amazing when they're touched and played with.”

“Yeah?” Yuri asks. When Otabek nods, he asks, “Can I see?”

Otabek pulls his tank top off and drops it on the bench. Yuri's eyes rake over his smooth, tanned skin and the rose on his ribs, finally coming to Otabek's nipples and the bars through them. The balls – silver like the one in Otabek's tongue – sit snugly, bracketing Otabek's nipples, and Yuri needs no encouragement to reach out and gently touch one. Otabek lets out a soft, shaky breath and Yuri looks up to see another grin on his face. Emboldened, he strokes his fingers over the nipple again, feeling it harden and peak. Otabek's hands return to roaming Yuri's skin under his shirt, and they breathe slow, heavy breaths into each other's mouths. When Yuri tentatively touches the metal barbell, tweaking it a little, Otabek's nails dig into his skin, and a growl rumbles into the next kiss. At the prompting of Otabek's hands, Yuri lets him pull off his t-shirt to leave it with the tank top. The slight chill in the room barely registers when Otabek goes straight back to kissing Yuri, hands exploring every bit of skin now on display.

Yuri can't keep in a whine when Otabek's fingers get back to his nipples, and he reaches to reciprocate, eager hands getting rushed and a little rough. By the time Otabek reaches for the button on Yuri's jeans (after an affirmative nod from Yuri) they're both panting and Yuri knows he's hard.

“You know what else feels good?” Otabek purrs in his ear as he works open Yuri's jeans.

“Hmm?”

In lieu of an actual answer, Otabek kisses his way down Yuri's chest, tongue darting occasionally at his skin. When he gets to Yuri's nipple, he works his tongue over it, and Yuri jerks at the sensation of the tongue stud caressing his nipple. When Otabek does it again, Yuri lets out a strangled moan, hands clenched on the edge of the bench as Otabek reaches into Yuri's underwear to run a gentle hand over his cock.

“Oh my god,” Yuri gasps, thighs twitching involuntarily as Otabek sinks further down, leaving more kisses on Yuri's skin. Otabek pauses for a second, looking up at Yuri, who nods again, biting his lip at the first brush of Otabek's lips over the head of his dick. His knuckles turn white as Otabek continues, the tip of his tongue joining in teasing at Yuri's erection. A shudder rolls down Yuri's body when Otabek's tongue stud joins the party and he marvels at how incredibly, stupidly lucky he knows he is.

Otabek's thumb runs over Yuri's balls as he takes Yuri fully into his mouth, turning Yuri's whimper to a high groan. After a split-second hesitation, Yuri sinks his hand into Otabek's hair. He doesn't intend to pull hard, but then Otabek drags his tongue (and consequently the little metal ball) along the length of his cock and his fingers tighten. As Otabek starts to gently suck in his cheeks, tongue stud flicking over Yuri's dick, Yuri pants, trying not to grab too hard, and watches Otabek's head bob up and down, lips wet and pink.

“O- Otabek...” Yuri can't help but feel a little embarrassed – he knows he won't last much longer between this being the first time anyone's touched him like this in a while and the entirely new sensation of the piercing along with Otabek's mouth and tongue.

But Otabek doesn't stop – if anything he moves faster, tongue working the stud thoroughly along the ridge under the head of Yuri's dick before he pulls him all the way in again. Yuri cries out when his cock hits the back of Otabek's throat and Otabek swallows around it. One final suck and glide of the stud and Yuri's hips buck on the bench, fingers grasping harder at Otabek's hair as he comes with a long, slow moan. Otabek swallows it all, the movement stroking Yuri through his orgasm and prolonging it, not quite getting Yuri into the territory of oversensitive. When Otabek gets up and Yuri kisses him again it's slower, sweeter, and Yuri can just taste himself in it.

“You okay?” he asks when they break apart, foreheads resting together.

Otabek nods, a smile on his face as he gazes into Yuri's eyes. “You?”

“Very,” says Yuri, squeezing Otabek's hands.

“Are you busy this evening?” When Yuri shakes his head, Otabek asks, “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“Sounds good,” says Yuri, slipping off the bench. While he's tucking himself away and pulling on his t-shirt, Yuri notices Otabek adjusting himself through his own jeans and feels a pang of guilt. “Unless... would you want me to... return the favour?”

Otabek laughs, fixing Yuri with a look that can only be described as sultry. “The night's still young.”

Yuri grins, wondering if he might be able to realise some of those fantasies about Otabek's ladder, and makes a mental note to thank Mila for dragging him here in the first place.

 


End file.
